


discreet indeed

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 19th Century, Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Crowley's Century-Long Nap (Good Omens), Discreet Gentlemen's Club (Good Omens), M/M, Minor Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Slut Aziraphale, very brief spit kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: While Crowley sleeps, Aziraphale gets it on with the discreet gentlemen's club.





	discreet indeed

**Author's Note:**

> for the bukkake/facial square in my seasonofkink card.
> 
> this is just... a thing. i don't know if i regret it.
> 
> enjoy!

Aziraphale can’t say he regrets joining the gentlemen’s club, especially considering he paid his first fee right after him and Crowley had broken up once again  It is a nice place, especially with the fact most of the men there were also of his inclinations, so he’s had two or more affairs with them. Okay, perhaps with most of the club. 

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the reprieve humans use with sex, he just doesn’t like to follow it. It’s one of the many earthly pleasures he can partake in, like crepes, foods, theater. It’s all very much the same thing for him, even if humans don’t really see it as such.

But the gentlemen’s club he goes to whenever he can is a lot less closed off than the rest of nineteenth-century England. Perhaps it is just the fact they’re all rich men into other men that makes them have few inhibitions, but it doesn’t matter too much. The when, why or how it’s not a worry of Aziraphale’s, as long as he can get his next fix of one of the greatest earthly pleasures— he learned it with Crowley, of course, but humans are as good, if not more, at sex than his demon. 

Crowley is sleeping the century away, last he saw him. He doesn’t particularly mind that, as long as when he inevitably wakes up he gets back into his arms. They’ve broken up enough times across the millennia to know how it goes at this point.

In the meanwhile, he’s on his knees at the club, surrounded by a good group of his friends and lovers — and he is decidedly taking them all in his mouth.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” one of them moans as he wraps his lips around his cock, looking up at him through lidded eyes. He keeps a firm grasp on his white-blonde locks, pulling a little as he sucks him off. “Such a perfect mouth, dear boy, oh…”

He takes his sweet time, never letting any of them come into his mouth. Whenever they’re close he pulls away, gets to the next lovely man, sucks him off eagerly until he’s crying out and gripping his head. He always pulls away and looks at them teasingly.

He pulls off one of the bigger men, a lot more muscle than the rest of them. “Wait your turn like everyone else, dear boy,” Aziraphale tells him with a teasing edge to his voice, and he— his name is Oliver if memory serves— grabs his chin and forces his head up to face him. 

Aziraphale pants a little at the abrupt, rough movement, looking up at him. 

Oliver spits on his cheek, it sliding down until it makes a mark on his coat. “We’re not at your orders, Aziraphale.”

He smiles at him and settles in the center of their group. His grin is wide as he tilts his head back. “I know, I know, but all of you know that my ideas bring better results. And I’ve got one, right now.” He’s not telling the exact truth— as he started this particular event, he had a clear idea in mind. 

“Which is?” A much more lean man, named Alexis, asks, fixing his clothes as he steps closer to him.

“All of you should release on my face,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

The men— eight of them, it must be, make a low hum of enjoying the idea, starting to stroke themselves as they form a tight circle around Aziraphale. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, tongue lolling out, feeling just how hard he is, straining his pants as he enjoys the situation thoroughly.

Alexis is the first one to release, moaning out and finishing, spurts over Aziraphale’s left cheek. More men quickly follow, coating his face in come. He licks up what he can reach, some of it falling on his hair (which he quickly miracles away, hoping that it doesn’t appear on reports  _ or  _ that any humans in the premises notice).

“You look divine, Aziraphale,” Oliver tells him.

Aziraphale can’t help but grab the mirror they offer him and look at his reflection intently, moaning at the sight as he reaches for the come he can’t quite reach to lick it off. He almost wishes he could show how he looks right now to Crowley, even if just to elicit jealousy from him.

“Thank you for your come, gentlemen,” he tells them once he finishes cleaning himself up, giving each and every one of them a kiss before leaving for the night. It’s been one of his favorite nights with them, he can say that much. 


End file.
